


From Eden

by divinemythopoeia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Dean deserves a dog, Dean’s Heaven, First Kiss, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On, canon complaint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divinemythopoeia/pseuds/divinemythopoeia
Summary: Dean doesn't need closure, he can shove down his feelings, never fully dissect them, continue to act like things don't need to change. He's used to it. He can handle it, but Cas deserves clarity. And a small hidden part of him thinks that maybe, he deserves that too."And what you said... your true happiness," Dean is careful with his words, each as scary to voice as the next, "Am I still it for you?"
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	From Eden

**Author's Note:**

> dwcultgrp this is for you  
> other fellow lost clowns, here is my fix-it fic contribution

_Jack set things right. Tore down all the walls; Heaven ain't just living your golden oldies anymore. It's what it always should've been. Everyone is happy. Everyone together._

_Jack did all that?_

_Cas helped_

_Cas. Castiel. The angel of the lord. His best friend. His Cas._

_"What are you gonna do now, Dean?"_

Inside the Roadhouse is quiet and slow, as it always was during late-night post-hunt visits. Ellen's behind the bar, wiping down the small stretch of the bar's surface in front of her in a slow, lazy manner. She's not expecting anyone. Jo's sitting on a stool across from her mother, head resting on her hand. A slant of afternoon light peeks in through the windows, covering the tables nearby in a heavenly glow, dust particles dancing in the light. Jack really thought of every detail. Dean breathes deeply and allows himself to feel the overwhelming bittersweet Nostalgia that seeps into every one of his senses. 

Over the years he learned how to walk silently, a necessary skill for most hunts, but for this circumstance, he decides against sneaking upon them. He deliberately allows his feet to fall to the floor loudly, the wooden floor creaking beneath each step. Ellen and Jo acknowledge him with a smile and Dean found something hilarious in the way they do not appear shocked to see him.

"Came to say hello to some old friends before you get sent back on Earth?" Ellen says, already pouring him a beer.

He searches for an answer that does not sound completely depressing or make him incompetent. Stabbed by a rusty nail, what an anticlimactic way to go. His ears ring as he thinks back to the barn and the feeling of the nail going into his back. The fear. The look on Sammy's face as they both realized he wasn't going to make it. A small voice inside of him screaming out in anger and guilt, _he shouldn't be happy here while Sam suffers on Earth without him. It's not okay._

"This is it for me," is all Dean can muster up as a response.

There's sorrow in Ellen's stare, but she does not voice it. Instead, she slides him a beer as Jo pulls out a stool next to her. He kicks back the beer — the brand Cosmic Cowboy pulled straight from the depths of his subconscious — in four steady gulps. It stings on its way down and he's left with a hollow sensation in his chest, not the warmth he knows to expect. He frowns, just like his beer with Bobby it tastes like a mix of piss and perfume. If every beer is going to taste awful for the sake of remembering one happy memory it's going to get old fast. _Hell, It's already old._

"Now that you've had your beer," Ellen begins and in one quick flurry of movement over the bar, she smacks Dean over the head. 

It isn't a powerful hit, but Dean, as ever the dramatic, reels backward in shock, the stool teetering on one peg before slamming firmly back down onto the floor. Jo laughs at the outburst.

"The hell!? What was that for?" He grimaces in betrayed shock.

"For getting yourself killed not even a month into your freedom! You're the only man on Earth with that kind of shit luck. You defeated God himself only to get impaled by a rusty nail in some random ass barn that wasn't up to code in Ohio."

At the mention of his death, his head starts to pound.

"How do you even know that... I thought time moved differently here." 

Dean's comment is ignored. "And what has Ohio ever contributed? Nothing. Even their hunters are god awful."

"That's offensive to Ohioans," Dean mutters, but he can't hear his own voice. His head feels like it's about to split open and there's a dull pain in his side. Jo says something to him, but it goes unheard.

"What?" He strains to hear.

She leans in close, "It took Ash two weeks to crack the code of time here. He said it was something about no time at all, existing on a plane between space and time. I'm not really sure, I tune him out."

The topic shift allows the ringing in his ears to finally stop and the pain is gone. He idly wonders if they felt it too.

"And where is Ash?"

Jo chuckles, remembering something that Dean was not apart of, "It's too complicated to even try explaining."

Dean's mind searches for the best scenario that suits the rabid drunk Einstein he came to know on Earth all those years ago. Sneaking into the Heaven of Freddie Mercury to live out his wildest Rockstar dreams. Running to Mexico to visit Chichèn Itzà and crack the code to some ancient knowledge. Is that even possible? The new construction of Heaven remains a mystery to Dean, inner workings too complicated and vast for his human mind to comprehend.

Ellen catches the look of disappointment on Dean's face, "He'll be around," She reminds him with a small smile. 

"How'd you know about..." Dean swallows and then in a low voice, "About what happened to me."

His questioning is met with unreadable smiles from both Ellen and Jo like they know something he doesn't. It mildly annoys him that he is so out of the loop.

Ellen speaks first, "Feathers has spent weeks getting Heaven back in order. You kind of threw a wrench in everything, which I expected no less from you."

Feathers? Does that mean—

"Cas," Jo confirms, "He ran around here like a chicken with his head cut off. He wanted everything to be perfect for you."

For him? Oh. Right. Cas's confession. His sacrifice. Dean's heart, somehow, was beating heavily in his chest. Cas did all this for Dean. All because he loved him. 

"I have to see him."

"I'm sure he will be back soon-" Jo begins.

"-No," He insists, voice shaking, "I need to speak with him now."

On cue — as if all along Cas was there waiting for Dean's permission — with a flutter of wings and burst of wind that leaves Dean breathless, Cas is there standing behind him.

"Hello, Dean."

"Cas."

He turns to greet Cas and the sight of him is almost too much. His blue eyes. His trench coat. His hair. Maybe it was Heaven's magic, but looking at Cas now, despite every one of his learned behaviors tearing him apart for even thinking it, Dean thinks Cas is the most beautiful, ethereal man he's ever laid his eyes upon. Dean has to psychically force himself to stay rooted on the stool. He wants to — he doesn't know what he wants to do. _Kiss him? Hug him? Hold his hand?_ He just wants Cas near him. No. He needs Cas near him. As if every atom holding him together in Heaven right now is aching just for Cas.

Ellen and Jo exchange a glance as if to say, are they just gonna stand here all day or what?

"Heard you're the one to go to for Heaven 101? With all the changes made I feel a little lost." Jokes. Definitely not appropriate or well suited for this reunion of sorts, but it's all Dean can do at this moment.

"We need to talk," Castiel responds, his voice calm and even. It's only a formality. Dean can see that Cas is scared. 

He stares at Cas hard, every part of Dean willing Cas to understand what he's feeling but, he isn't even completely sure what he is trying to signal. What does he want from Cas? What is it about him that Dean finds solace in? Why is he the person his mind always craves? Why does Cas love him? What does it mean for him when he says he loves him back? 

"Shall we?" Dean says, unsure what he's even asking for. 

Cas lifts his hand, skimming his fingertips on Dean's wrist, and the Roadhouse dissolves around them, and a beach of Castiel's own devising bursts into vivid color. Royal blue waves. A setting sun casting golden orange and pink-hued reflections across the ocean. Tan sand pliant underneath Dean's boots. 

"Whoa," Dean breathes out a surprised laugh. "I-I don't understand. How is this possible?"

"Bobby Singer has been very... vocal about his distaste for Heaven's operations thus far. Jack and I agreed things were due for a change."

A wave crashes into the shore, Dean leans down to feel the rushing water displace the sand underneath his fingers. His smile is bright and gleeful, almost childlike. 

Cas takes slow, tentative steps down the shoreline and Dean lags behind him, making sure to take in every detail as though it'll be taken away from him at any given moment.

"Each human soul chooses their heaven. Some prefer to live out their best memories. Others want to live as they did on Earth, whether that's with their family and friends or by themselves they get to decide."

Dean has the power of choice, anything he wants, unlimited options. He's never had that kind of freedom before. It's terrifying. 

"What did my mom choose?" He asks. 

"Her and John are living out their memories together."

Dean is quiet for a long moment.

"My dad, huh," Dean smiles bitterly, "Figures. Knew they'd prefer to be stuck in their ignorance than live with the consequences from their real life."

"All you have to do is ask and Jack will condemn them to hell," Cas glances over his shoulder. "He thought you would want your father in Heaven, I disagreed but he was rather insistent."

Dean shakes his head, "He's right.. I just," He runs a hand down his face, overwhelming guilt crushing him. "A little confused as to how I'm here. How I'm aware right now."

"I don't get what you mean?" Cas tilts his head, frowning. 

"I don't understand why I feel like I'm still alive. I'm Scared. I'm Elated. I'm Nauseous. My head feels like it's going to burst whenever I think about my death. I can feel my heart beating a mile a minute in my chest. Why is it like this? Shouldn't there just be nothing?"

God, he sounds like a child having their first existential crisis. 

"Strange, I did not predict that having the emotions to be aware of your death would have physical side effects. I suppose it makes sense, your neurons do not know the difference between Heaven and Earth, they must be firing to alert you to the pain you last experienced on Earth. I'll see what I can do about that."

"Thanks." 

"I apologize for my misjudgment, I had assumed you would want all your emotions. and memories, I can take away whatever you wish to not feel."

Cas holds up his hand, ready to take it all away, but Dean meets him in the middle and grabs his wrist, "No. Don't."

Cas studies him and Dean winces under his stare, very aware of his hand still on Cas's wrist, "It was a good call. Unexpected, but you're right. I do want to keep my factory settings."

Cas smiles, "Peace and Freedom; just as you would want it. I'm sorry it had to be so premature."

His throat closes up. Cas did this all for him. He deserves so much more than him, Dean thinks. No. He knows Cas deserves more than the repressed man who doesn't even know his own feelings.

Cas pulls his hand away, Dean aches at the loss. They walk down the shoreline in silence, Dean is careful to keep his gaze locked on his feet as he walks because if he looks up at Cas he feels he will explode. But he can't not see Cas out of his peripheral vision. Can't not feel the warmth of him even from inches away. Can't not yearn to hold his hand and tell him everything he feels. 

"And what about you?" Dean asks suddenly.

Cas falters, slowing his walk, "What about me?"

"I get to keep all my factory settings? What about you?"

Cas turns towards him, sees Dean watching him. He smiles. Dean blushes and looks away, heart hammering in his chest.

"Are you asking if I still have all my feelings or if I'm still a powered down angel?" 

Cas steps closer.

"Both." 

"The Empty weakened me considerably, it may take a while, but yes, one day I will be back to full power."

Dean doesn't need closure, he can shove down his own feelings, never fully dissect them, continue to act like things don't need to change. He's used to it. He can handle it, but Cas deserves clarity. And a small hidden part of him thinks that maybe, he deserves that too.

"And what you said... your true happiness," Dean is careful with his words, each as scary to voice as the next, "Am I still it for you?"

In front of him, Cas exhales, and steps even closer. 

"Yes," Cas says, voice a whisper, then louder, more confident, "If you will have me."

"You selfish bastard you never let me say it back. Christ, Cas, if you would've just told me sooner—" Dean crushes him into a hug, their embrace uncomplicated; things are just as they should be. 

"–I couldn't, I was too afraid of what you might say." Cas tries to keep his voice steady, but the sorrow seeps through. The pain of lost time is prevalent and it hurts. He's shaking in Cas's arms. He wants to say that it doesn't matter what was left unsaid in the past, but he can't bring himself to lie.

Dean pulls back, fingers grazing Cas's cheek, and then sliding down to find their resting place on his shoulder, "I need you to let me say it, Cas. I need you to hear me say it."

Cas takes a deep breath, shakey and uneven, and nods. 

"I love you," Dean repeats once, twice, three times, like he's trying it out himself to see how it feels. "I don't know what that means for me or us and I'm so damn jealous you're able to know so clearly what you want."

"You don't have to know, it's okay," Cas says and reaches for Dean, he takes Dean's hand, rubbing small circles over the back of his knuckles.

"But I want to know, Cas," Dean says, voice strained and thin. "My whole life I never got to go after what I want, fuck, I never even got to figure out what my wants even mean! I know it's not fair, I know it's selfish of me, but I want to figure out what my..." Even now after declaring his love, it's hard to say it aloud, the words thick and heavy in his throat, "..What my feelings for you mean. 'Cause I know when I say you're my best friend I mean it. And I know when I say I love you I mean it. Ever since we met, ever since you raised me from Hell, you've understood me so completely in a way no one else did. Not Sam. Not Bobby. You saw me as I was and still stuck around. I never knew why you did. I guess I know now."

Dean laughs weakly, close to tears, "Everything you said.. whatever you meant by wanting what you can't have. You can have it."

"No."

"No?" Dean repeats.

Cas step in close, so close that Dean can feel his breath on his face. He doesn't step away. He stands there, as though it is a competition and he's going to win. It's unclear what he wins. 

"I'm not deciding for you, you choose what you want."

Dean shifts his weight between his feet, uneasy. "I don't know how."

"You do," Cas says, "This is not your heaven, Dean. You haven't created it yet. I bent the rules, I allowed you to get closure with your loved ones before your soul chooses your eternity for you."

As a demonstration of Cas's power over the environment, he changes the setting sun to pitch dark night with a thunderous crack. Dean flinches, stumbling backward in shock.

"Focus." He places two fingers on Dean's forehead. "You have the power to choose. Don't fight it, let your subconscious make the decision it's meant to."

Dean closes his eyes. He does as he told. As he faces the unlimited choice, he considers his options, Cas's ocean bends underneath the strength of Dean's mind. His instinct narrows it down and he chooses.

He feels his Heaven. A crisp spring afternoon, wind curling in his jacket, goosebumps sticking his arm hair straight up. Beneath his boots, he feels the crunch of grass still yet to thaw the winter away. 

"Wait." Dean opens his eyes, the ocean flickers back into full opacity. "What about you?" 

Dean can't hold on, he's already fading away. 

Cas smiles, "If your soul wants it to be so; I will be there."

Then darkness envelopes Dean. Nothing but silence. Fear rises in his throat, what if he wasn't in heaven after all. What if this is all a trick? What if Jack finally came to his senses and realized Dean didn't deserve Heaven after how he was treated? He deserves the pain. He deserves the fear. He deserves to suffer. 

_Please don't make me go back,_ he cries out into the nothing. _I don't want to be alone. End it. Please just let me go. End it._

The darkness flashes into different memories before him, his eyes straining to keep up. Driving Baby down a long stretch of highway. Bobby teaching him to play poker. Trying and failing miserably to teach Cas how to drive. Finding just enough food for Sammy after they both starved for three days. Mary kissing his forehead. Watching Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid for the first time. 

Then in a jitter and a flash, he sees Sam. Sam with Eileen. Miracle begging for table scraps. Cas hugging him. Jack triumphant, announcing he had won Clue, his guess of Colonel Mustard in the kitchen with the handgun was correct. Dean has to resist throwing the board off the table. Cas holding his hand. Cas kissing him. _Wait._ These aren't memories anymore. 

In the blink of an eye, finally, Dean's Heaven settles around him. Once again he feels the crisp spring afternoon and the wind curling in his jacket and the goosebumps sticking his arm hair straight up. The crunch of grass still yet to thaw the winter away beneath his boots.

Although he has never been before, the mountain range around him is pulled straight out of a photo of the Canadian Rockies. The snow-covered peaks towering over him. The flowing stream to the far left feeding into a vast turquoise-hued glacial lake. The dense evergreen spruce trees littered in almost every direction. He breathes deep, feeling the chilled air in his lungs. It's intoxicating.

From behind him, there is a bark and as Dean turns to see, he laughs, joyful. Miracle. 

"There you are," Dean kneels to greet the excited dog. His dog. His Miracle. "Knew you couldn't stay away. I hope Sam doesn't mind my soul stole you." 

Miracle doesn't close the distance, instead, he barks at Dean once more then turns to walk away. Dean follows his walk and oh. He sees it now. The cabin nestled deep in the treeline. The door is slightly ajar, a warm yellow glow inviting him inside. He definitely didn't expect this. He thought his Heaven would be the bunker or an open stretch of limitless highway or his childhood home that he was once pained when he realized he forgot what it looked like. This. This is somehow better than all of that and he didn't even realize it is what he wanted.

Inside he finds Castiel sitting at the small dining table located right in front of the front window. 

"Your interior design choices leave much to be desired," Cas muses, attempting to appear unphased, but his happiness is apparent in the hint of a smile on his lips. Dean beams.

"I have bad taste," Dean retorts, holding his hands out for Castiel to take. He does. 

Dean pulls a little too hard, pulling Cas right into his chest. He quickly adjusts his hold, pressing his palm into Cas's back, holding him there. Their foreheads knock together. Miracle claws at their feet. They laugh and it's the weirdest thing. Laughing like they aren't at the point of no return. 

Everything that was once underground in Dean is blooming as though he has been switched on for the first time. He reaches out, thumb brushing softly, barely there, over Castiel's lip. 

"Your soul was aggressive. I felt it," Cas says, gasping like he cannot catch his breath. "Every particle in you was yearning for me. It hurt... I could feel the grace I knitted into you in Hell, every one of your cells pulling me to you, tearing apart my true form and pulling it back together again and again and again as your soul pieced together your Heaven."

"I caught absolutely none of what just said," Dean says slowly and laughs.

Castiel's hand glides over Dean's shoulder, "I could feel you choosing me to be with you in Heaven."

A small voice inside of Dean says remember you shouldn't be here. _You should be in hell, burning for all eternity but another voice shouted louder you left Sam, you left Sam, you left Sam. Failure. Failure. Failure._ Dean forces those thoughts away. He pulls Castiel impossibly closer, a chuckle escaping his lips as Cas gasps for breath, his mouth open, expectant.

"I-I think I want to kiss you," He says softly, both achingly ready and completely unprepared.

"Think or know?"

"Know." 

It's entirely unconvincing, Dean's aware of the way his shaking voice destroys his credibility and he hates himself for it. After everything, he's still unsure, rooted in place, hand frozen on Cas's face. _Almost there, Dean. Just take it. You can have what you want. It's okay._

Cas kisses him first, flowing and soft. He's still frozen, all he can do is take it in, whole body vibrating under the kiss. It's nothing like Dean thought it would be; there's something awkward about it. He doesn't know what he expected. 

Cas's lips part and Dean, finally, carefully, follows his lead. It's all so much. He's smiling into the kiss, dizzy, delirious, drunk. There's something about the way they match each other's energies like it's the easiest thing in the world. 

It's completely and utterly ridiculous the way he lets himself be kissed by Cas in whatever way he wants to and he melts into it as though it's all he's ever wanted – perhaps it is.


End file.
